The Only North Star
by ChosenOfAshurha
Summary: Little James Moriarty makes a wish on a shooting star one night, ignoring the little voice that told him magic wasn't real. To his surprise, it comes true- in the form of a little boy with golden hair and eyes like sapphires. John, as he names him, is everything he hoped a friend would be, and more. So much more.
1. Childhood

_Help me._

_Please, I just need a friend. Someone to play with, someone to keep me safe, someone who doesn't hurt me._

_I wish to not be so lonely any more._

The sky was falling, and the little boy couldn't hang on. He hurtled through the cold void, curled up in a tight ball, as the words reached his ears. Someone was watching, someone was pleading to him. He had no name, he had no home; he was born of a child's need, called into existence by a quiet wish in the darkness of the night.

He was hurtling toward the voice.

When he came to his senses, he was looking up into the dark black eyes of another boy, bundled up against the winter air.

"Are you hurt?"

The little star stood up on virgin legs and gripped the edge of the crater. "I don't think so…" He gave the boy a smile. "Do you have a name?"

"Yes! I'm James! What about you?"

He shook his head, sending glitter falling from his golden hair. "I don't have a name."

"Where did you come from?"

One small, glowing finger gestured to the sky.

"Why?"

"Because you asked for a friend." His blue eyes were warm and inviting, innocent as the weight of his words sank in. James gave him a look of wonder, his dark eyes widening.

"Come inside. You have to hide, though, if anyone comes. I don't think they'd like having another boy in the house." James laced their fingers together and led him into the run-down house. The two young boys made their way up the stairs and into James' tiny bedroom. "Sorry it's, um, small," he whispered, peeking around the star and staring at his shimmering trail of footprints.

"I like it."

"What am I going to call you?"

"... What do you mean?"

James led him over to the bed. "You need a name. Um… something nice. Something special."

The little star hopped up beside him. "How about…" He looked around the room and furrowed his brow. There was a ramshackle bookshelf against the wall, with five well-worn books on the shelves. He squinted his eyes.

"What about… John?"

James giggled. "Not quite as special as I expected, but it fits. John." He looked at the glowing boy and frowned. "... Aren't you cold, John? You're not wearing any clothes."

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm actually warm." He squeezed James' hand. "See?" His skin was warm, very warm, and comforting. John smiled. "Should we play? I can do tricks. Want to see?" He let go of James and cupped his palms together. "Come on, don't be shy…" The space within his hands began to fill with a soft orange glow. "Starlight," he explained, peeking up at James. "You can touch it, it's safe…"

James reached forward and ran his hands through the little ball of light. "Oh! It tickles!"

John giggled. "That's good. It likes you." _I like you too._

The little boy that fell from the sky showed him the little clouds he could craft and the way he could fly. He showed James how he could make the starlight into liquid and paint it onto his skin. He showed him how brightly he could shine when the nights got scary. James showed John his rabbit, and his books, and the little flower he'd snuck between the pages of Pride and Prejudice a few days earlier. He didn't have much, but everything fascinated John. He could see how proud James was of his ability to read, so as the night began to leave the sky they curled up under the threadbare blankets and James began to recite words from his little dictionary to the fallen star.

When the sun peeked through the heavy clouds, he tucked it under his pillow and sat up. "You need to hide," James whispered. "If they find you here…"

"Oh," John replied, his light dimming a little in his disappointment. "Where will I go?"

"There's a closet, here, come on!" James took the boy's hand and let him to the cracked wooden door. "Just cover your ears, okay? If… if things get loud, cover your ears. And stay here until I get you. Okay, John?"

"I… okay." His rules were weird. John wasn't sure he liked them.

"You just… hide. And then I come find you. And then you get a prize! Okay? Please, John…"

John squeezed his hand. "Okay. It's a game! I hide, until you find me. Just… do you promise you'll find me?"

"I promise, John. I'll find you."

He smiled at James and stepped back into the closet. "Sleep well, James."

"You too." James smiled back and closed the door.

And John was alone.

Sometimes there was screaming. John would cover his ears and try not to cry- making a sound was against the rules of their hiding game. Sometimes tears shone in James' eyes when he came to collect him. Sometimes he was bruised, sometimes naked, sometimes unable to speak for hours. The very first time, the night John fell, he had opened the closet with a black eye and a split lip.

"James!" John gasped, his light growing brighter. "Let me help, please!"

James shook his head. "No, John. There's… It's fine, I'm fine." There were tears in his eyes.

"It's okay. I can make it better. I promise." He floated close to the injured boy. "Close your eyes. I'm… I'm shy."

"... Are you going to hurt me?" James whispered.

"I will never hurt you, James. Never ever. I swear."

James swallowed and closed his eyes. "O-okay."

John leaned in and pressed his lips against the boy's soft lashes. The dark bruise began to fade as warmth spread across James' skin. He pulled back with a smile. _Now… _It was innocent. It was kind. He kissed James' cut, their mouths pressed together chastely. The boys cheeks reddened as he opened his eyes, meeting John's.

_Oh._

He floated down to the ground and smiled shyly. "See? I fixed it. I made it better."

James peeked up at him, his eyes wide with wonder. "You… kissed me."

"I healed your ouches."

Lip-shaped dust glittered where his mouth touched the boy's skin. It made his earth-coloured eyes glow a bright amber colour.

"You should be a doctor when you grow up," he whispered, "if you stay that long."

"Will other people try to hurt me if they see me? Because that would make it hard to be a doctor."

James managed a wet chuckle. "Good point. You can be _my _doctor, then." He held out his hand. John took it eagerly and squeezed.

"Of course. Your doctor."

Nothing prepared John for the Bad Night. The night everything changed. John and James played every day, out by the creek, out in the grass, under the bed, everywhere they could safely go. For a few weeks, the fighting continued- James would come to John crying, bleeding, sometimes without a single scratch on him. The little star boy never asked what was wrong, but he _would _ask where it hurt. James would point to a spot on his chest, or his head, for John to kiss better. When they got the chance, they curled up together on the bed, beneath his blankets once more. John's light filled the little area, making a world just for them.

And no one bothered them.

Until The Grownup came in one evening, The Monster, reeking of booze and with ice in his eyes. John was tucked in the closet, but the sound… he couldn't block out the sound of the screamed obscenities, of James' strangled sobs, of the man's twisted commands.

"Please! Please, I've been good, don't! You're hurting me! Stop!"

John started to shake. The warm golden light around him turned redder with each passing second.

He was a good, kind little star. He was made just for James, just to heal him, to help him, and he needed him. He needed him _now._

John placed a hand on the door and it burst into flame, falling away to ash before him.

"John, no! Hide! He'll-"

James looked up at him from the bed, naked and bleeding from welts on his back.

"John… what…"

"Stars are made of gas and heat," John said, something dangerous in his tone. "Stars _burn._" He floated toward the man and gripped his jaw, forcing him away from James. "You. You will never touch this boy, or any other, ever again." The light radiating from his body was a deep orange, the heat blistering. He was _mad, _so angry, so furious that anyone would hurt his best friend, and he was having a hard time controlling it. It's hard to be afraid when being herded by a tiny glowing child, but the man Jim lived with looked terrified. His skin was starting to blister.

"James. Run. Get outside, please!" He listened to the boy's footsteps as he ran out of the room, pausing only to grab some clothes. The moment the back door banged open, John closed his eyes.

He let go of the careful control he'd been keeping on himself.

Flames engulfed the run-down home.

"JOHN! John, NO! JOHN!" James screamed for him, pleaded with him to be safe, until his throat was raw and hoarse. Time stilled as he watched the blaze for any sign of movement.

"John…"

Finally a soft gold glow parted the flames. John, perfectly fine, cradling a small stuffed rabbit in his arms.

"I couldn't leave him behind, I know how much you love him… I'm sorry, about the… James, he was _hurting _you! He's been hurting you all along and I… I had to stop him, I had to…"

James threw his arms around John's neck and pulled him close. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for saving me…"

"That's what friends do. I'll always protect you."

"What are we, where are we gonna live now? How are we going to eat?"

John smiled gently. "I'll find you a new home. A loving home. A home where we're safe."

"Promise?"

The little star took James in his arms and flew away from the fire. "I promise."


	2. Teen Years

James was growing, and he was growing into a handsome young man. Even in his second-hand clothes, he was absolutely stunning, and John was becoming more aware of it every passing day. Large russet eyes, full lips, and chubby cheeks made for a boy who would be a heartbreaker one day- if he wasn't already. He had less time to play with the little boy who fell from the sky as he entered secondary schooling, and he'd already began to form his own social group.

That hurt John the most.

There was a blond boy, big and strong, that had managed to catch James' eye. _Sebastian, _John often found himself thinking with a frown. _My name is better. _James talked about him constantly to the little star, who'd been growing right alongside him. John sat out on the grass beside him one night, looking up into the dark expanse of the sky. _Home. Is this really my home?_

"Did you hear me? I said he tossed the little bastard right into the pool. It was wonderful."

John ran a hand through his gold streaked hair. "Sorry. I must have spaced out." The Irish boy smirked and looked over at him.

"You do that a lot when I talk about Seb. You also tend to glow blue."

"What? I do not."

James chuckled. "You're blue right now, Johnny."

John looked at his hand and glared at it. A soft azure aura flickered around his shining skin.

"Blue stars burn the hottest," James remarked. "I learned that in science last year. That raises the question of why you change to a hotter colour."

The star grimaced and looked away. "I wouldn't know."

"It's only when Seb comes up, too. You don't change when I complain about Sherlock, or Irene… it's just Seb." James rolled onto his stomach and peered up at John, who'd begun floating in his distress. "Are you jealous, Johnny?"

John swallowed and lifted his chin. "No, no, of course not. You can spend time with anyone you want. It's fine, it's all fine. I can manage."

James peered at him a moment, still as the grave. John closed his eyes- a big mistake. James pounced on him, tackling him to the grass and pinning him with expert grace. He was warm, though he felt cool against John's star-heated skin. "You know you're my best friend, right?" James purred, his eyes black in John's dark glow. The star-boy nodded, looking up at him with wonder. "No one will replace you, Johnny. Seb's my friend too, but I'm not… it's not the same. What you mean to me, and what he means to me… they aren't the same thing. You saved my life, time and time again. You kept me safe. You're all the good in my life. Do you really think I'd just forget you?"

"You've just… been distant, and you talk about him so _much, _James, I can't help it, I just get…"

"Jealous," James finished with a smirk.

"Yeah. Jealous." John grew shy, his eyes dropping from Jim's. _It's not the same._

The young Irish boy cupped John's jaw and tilted his head back. "You know you don't need to worry. I think deep down, you can tell how much more you mean to me. How different you are from him." His voice had dropped an octave, a low brogue that rumbled in his chest. John shivered at the sound.

"Then why haven't you been coming back? Why don't you invite me along? How am I still-"

James silenced him by capturing his lips in a rough kiss, one hand slipping up to toy with his golden locks. John groaned and kissed him back, wrapping his arms around James' elegant neck. He tasted strange- apples John knew, but the other, the bitter, burning flavour, he couldn't place. He was still young, still learning, and he'd never encountered that before. If James knew he was curious, he might have told him it was 'whiskey and cigarettes', but those meant nothing to the innocent little star who kept the darkness at bay.

John didn't know why James kept him at a distance now, but there _was _a reason- he didn't want him to see what he was becoming. He'd never told him of Carl Powers, the bully who made fun of his 'imaginary friend' the star, the bully he took care of while John was stuck at home, hiding. He didn't tell him their sweets were nicked from the Tesco a mile south. He didn't tell him that Sebastian snuck him liquor from his father's private stash and that one night, while completely pissed, they stole a car and crashed it into a tree in the rich part of town. John was pure, John was good, and James didn't want to snuff that light out. He didn't want John to change, or grow to hate him. James wanted John to stay sweet, and beautiful, and kind- even if the human boy couldn't.

John was pressed against him, the color of his glow fading back to the warm gold James was used to. When he pulled back, John giggled up at him. "Gold." the whispered, thumbing James' lips. The boy grinned down at him. "I like it, the little marks you leave with even the faintest kiss."

"But I haven't kissed you in years."

"I never forgot."

John flushed pink and licked his lips. "That's sweet of you to remember." _He thinks about me. He remembers me. I'm important._

"I don't kiss anyone else, John. I've had offers, sure, but I was… waiting. For you. I just needed a little confirmation first. And now I know."

"Know what?" John asked, genuinely curious.

"How you feel about me. The jealousy, the way your eyes linger on me, the loneliness you feel… Johnny Boy, you _like _me." James tapped his nose. "And I like you too. You're special. You mean more to me than anyone else, and… John, there's nothing I wouldn't do to protect you. From anyone or anything."

"... Kiss me again."

It didn't take long for things to escalate. John burned hot and needy, falling apart with every deep kiss and every soft caress of his naked body. He didn't understand why he couldn't get enough, why the heat built within his stomach. "James," he whined, pressing his hips against him. "Help… I don't, I don't know what…" Just the sight of him, glowing and writhing and breathing hard, made James' head spin.

"I've got you, Johnny. It's alright."

One well-placed, shy lick to the glittering precome leaking from his head was all it took to seal their night. There on the grass, beneath the shining night sky, James claimed the fallen boy as his own. John moaned his name and arched his spine, warm and wet around him as their bodies came together again and again. Lips pressed against smooth skin, hands tangled in soft hair, toes curled and cries echoed off the trees. Covered in sweat and absolutely spent, glittering with John's release, the two boys lay entwined, giggling and kissing and fighting to stay awake.

"James?"

"Yeah?"

"... I… I love you."

"I love you too, Johnny."

To John and James alike, it was the most beautiful night of their lives, and the star clung to its memory as the year passed.

Because, three days later, James vanished.


	3. Adulthood

Sebastian and James' other friends hadn't seen him since he went home with John three days prior. The star listened, hoping that Jim would call to him, but there was only silence. He searched high and low, donning some of the boy's clothes and a souvenir London cap that he wore on rainy days. The loss of his best friend had dampened his golden glow, and apart from the few strands of glimmering hair that stuck out under the cap, John could almost pass as a normal human boy. He asked around, every day for a year. No one ever saw James. No one knew what happened to him.

Even after James' foster family moved, John stayed. He slept on the empty bed frame, draped in clothes far too tight on him and staring out at the night sky. It seemed empty. It seemed cold. _Do I even have a family? Fallen stars can't go back, not until we burn away. Will I burn away without him? _Years passed and still he stayed, until the clothes wouldn't go on and a new family moved in. Naked and lonely, John nicked a jumper and jeans from a laundromat and decided to change towns. He wanted to stay near, just in case James came back for him.

James never did.

Years kept creeping by, and John's golden hair grew gray. He never gave up on James, on the sweet little Irish boy with warm whiskey eyes and a grin that lit up the world. Everyone else had- Sherlock moved into the heart of London, Irene to the upscale Belgravia neighbourhood, and Sebastian enlisted in the war. James' crowd was gone. There was only John, waiting, sitting on his little cloud and watching the earth spin around him. For a long while he slept, high above the city, letting his mind wander to the days when he and James would roll down the grassy hills, or swim in the creek, or lay in the bathtub giggling and poking at the bubbles.

He was dormant, unconscious, until one night he heard a voice in his head.

_Johnny._

_Johnny-boy, are you still out there? I need you._

_Please, Johnny..._

John snapped out of his self-imposed hibernation, blue eyes wide. "James!" _He's back. He's back, he's alive, and he's looking for me! _The star flew unseen through the city, carefully cloaked as he tracked the source of Jim's whispered calls. He found him in a modern flat on a closed street, staring out the window with the same eyes John had fallen for when they were children.

They weren't children anymore.

John came up to the window, grinning wide, barely having time to register the empty look in James' gaze before the man pulled him through and kissed him hard. John grunted in surprise and wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him close. _You're home. You're finally home. _James' hands slid over John's ancient jumper, pulling back just enough to tug it over his hair. "Johnny," he growled, nipping at his mouth. "I missed you, I missed you every day…"

_Please mean that. I… please, mean that, James… _

As soon as James had stripped them both he pulled them onto the bed, feeling John's warm body underneath his eager hands. "So big, Johnny, you've grown so much… Twenty years since I saw you last…" Each sentence was punctuated with desperate kisses and a press of his hips. John shuddered, glowing brightly in the dark room. He had questions- so many of them- but James wasn't leaving time for him to ask. "I dreamed about you," he breathed, cupping John's arse. "Every time I thought about dying, I remembered the way you bathed in moonlight, silver against your skin. I thought about your laugh, and how you burned blue when you thought about Sebastian. I remembered the feel of your hands on my skin that first night, and how _happy _you made me. It was you, Johnny, it was always you…"

John hadn't been with anyone since that weekend when they were boys. First beneath the stars, and then anywhere they could sneak off and be alone. Never like this- slow, and soft, taking the time to explore each others' bodies with gentle kisses and warm hands… Jim was the only one he wanted to touch, to caress, to join with. The human's hands were busy, working him open as he licked the protests from John's lips. The aging star kissed him as he slipped fingers into his muscle. _Everything I am, everything I have, is yours, James. _He rocked down on his hand, spreading himself for Jim.

When he was ready, Jim sucked at his throat and pressed into him. John gasped and clung to him, his muscular legs wrapped around his hips. Jim thrust hard and fast, holding John around the waist as he fucked into him. "J-James," he gasped. "P-please…"

"Please what, Johnny?"

"S-slow down, it hurts…"

James stilled completely. His face drained of all colour, leaving him looking pale and shocked. "I… Oh, fuck, John, I'm sorry, I…" He made to pull away, but John grabbed his wrist. "It's alright, just… just slow down. You don't have to stop."

There was something in his eyes, a sorrow unfathomable, as he nodded to the blond. "Of, of course. Sorry, love." Now he was slow and careful, bucking into him at a safe, even pace. He seemed to see John for the first time, looking down into his dark blue eyes as he rocked into the man his little star had become. Jim thumbed under the bags beneath John's eyes and counted the lines in his face as they made love, never averting his gaze even once. _I'm not pretty anymore, James,_ John thought sadly. _I'm so sorry. _

Jim kissed him again, licking into his mouth with a groan. One hand dipped to slide soft fingers up his cock, coaxing pleasured little sighs from John. His glow brightened further. "Ja- Jim," he moaned. "Harder, please, I can, I can handle it now, just…" Jim shook his head. "I shouldn't have been so rough," he whispered. I've got you, Johnny, it's alright. I won't neglect you." His grip grew more sure, arm pumping in time with his hips. John tossed his head back with a groan, twitching between Jim's fingers. Sweating and breathing hard, John's vision was going white.

"That's it, Johnny. Come for me. Show me how good I make you feel… Don't be shy…"

John's muscles clenched as he spilled over Jim's fist, threads of golden come spattering over his stomach. Jim buried his face in his neck and kept thrusting, releasing with a strangled sob of his name. Naked, pressed together, absolutely filthy, their hearts raced together in the stillness of the afterglow.

"Jim…"

"We, we should talk…" Jim's voice was on the verge of breaking.

"Seb… Seb convinced me to steal some money from a group of sick bastards. Not much, just five grand, something they wouldn't miss." Jim took a drag of his cigarette and closed his eyes, blowing smoke from between his soft lips. "They missed it. Somehow, they found me. Grabbed me off the street. Kept me locked up for a year and treated me… Johnny, they did horrible fucking things to me. Starved me, fucked me, beat me, left me strung up in ropes for weeks on end… I had to break my god damned wrist to get away."

"You should have called me, I could have-"

"What, sparkled at them?" Jim snorted. "No, there was nothing you could do. Hell, they'd probably have chained you up too. I couldn't let you see me like, John. Naked, bloody, covered in piss and spit and come… No. No, not you. You had to stay safe. You had to stay pure."

"And why not after? Why not call me when you escaped? I could have taken you away, healed you, cared for you-"

"Because I was fucking scared, Johnny," Jim interrupted. "I was scared you wouldn't… scared you wouldn't love me anymore. Not after being used like that. I spent a year in a mental institution because I wouldn't talk. I was drawing, though. Seventeen years old, drawing stars over and over on any paper they'd let me have… I never stopped thinking about you. That was the only _good _about that fucking place. Misdiagnosed, mistreated, waking up screaming and strapped to the bed… I fucking hated it. I hated everyone there. I started thinking Seb sold me out, so I tried to plan out a way to get him back. Once I was old enough, I checked myself out of the 'hospital' and started building… well, a fucking empire." He chuckled and tapped his ash into the glass tray on the nightstand. "I'm a king now, Johnny, and everyone bows down and rolls over and kisses my arse, day in and out. I learned he went to Afghanistan, Sebastian. When he got back, I hired him as 'security'. Slit his throat one night while he slept. I was right; he fucking told them I took it. Wanted to get in good with those fucking slavers, what a _bastard…"_

John looked down. "You didn't call for me."

Jim inhaled deeply, taking another hit before he crushed it out. "Look at me, Johnny. Really _look _at me. Look at all the scars."

In the light of his natural glow, John leaned in close and ran his fingers over the deep, jagged scars across Jim's torso. A nasty set on his collarbone gave the star pause.

"From the ropes," Jim whispered.

John gave him a long look, a look full of longing, of sorrow, of pain. He pressed his lips to the damaged flesh, kissing the length of the scar from end to end and back again. Over, and over, leaving glittering trails in his wake. The shimmer marks of his kisses shone brightly, slowly mending the damage.

"J-johnny, you don't have to-"

"I love you," John said, running a hand down his chest. "I love you, and I want to help. You think these scars are ugly, don't you?"

Jim nodded and looked

"Because of how they were inflicted."

He repeated the action.

"I think they prove just how strong you are. Look at everything you went through. Look at what was done to you. You survived. You _lived, _which is the biggest slap in the face you could give them. Jim, I'm proud. Proud of you. Proud to know you, and love you, even if you didn't… Even if you didn't call out for me."

The Irishman looked guilty. He raised his burnt amber eyes to John's and took a breath.

"I was going to kill myself tomorrow. Sherlock and I had a falling out- doesn't approve of the path Daddy's taken. With Seb out of the way, I turned to him. He's been dismantling my operations for years, and I'm so sick of it. He's dull, boring, just a thorn in my side. I was going to kill him, and then end… end my life. Now you see the need for the urgency, when you arrived." He ran a hand over his face. John noticed, for the first time, how _tired _he looked. He had bags of his own, dark circles beneath his eyes, and frown lines on his brow. Though he still looked young, younger than John now, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. In a way, John supposed he did. After all he'd been through…

"Don't. Jim… Please, James, don't. Don't do that. I can't… I can't lose you again. You're not alone, not any more. Do you know what I didn, while you were gone? I looked for you. I waited for you. For years, I searched, and I sat in your room and wore your clothes and tried to find you. I'm… I'm going to burn up, one day, maybe not too long from now. I already look so much older than you, I… I have no right, to ask you to stay, but please… just, just think about staying. I know we're not children anymore. I know you've been suffering, for so long, but let me… let me take care of you. Let me kiss away your scars, let me soothe the ache, let me help you feel clean again."

Jim looked up at him, and for the first time in twenty years, he smiled. He smiled, and his eyes crinkled, and dimples showed in his cheeks, and John could almost see the boy from all those years ago.

"I never stopped loving you, Johnny, my sweet little star… Always so good to me. You'd really kiss away my scars?"

"Every one. Over every inch of your body. I'd do anything for you, Jim."

"Anything?"

John nodded.

"I… Can you still make the starlight, in your palms?" Jim's voice was barely above a whisper.

Without a word, John brought his hands together and summoned the liquid starlight that had so impressed Jim when they were boys. Still smiling that genuine, radiant grin, Jim trailed his fingers through it. It seemed to put him at ease.

"I'm sorry I didn't call to you."

"I am too."

"... I won't leave you again, Johnny. Not for anything." He laid his head on Jim's shoulder, still playing in the little pool.

John watched him, tears brimming his eyes.

"Do you promise?"

"Yeah, Johnny. I promise. I owe you."

_You came home. That's all I wanted._


End file.
